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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28650582">Almost Honest</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessBakesCakes/pseuds/JessBakesCakes'>JessBakesCakes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The West Wing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Compliant, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:47:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,341</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28650582</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessBakesCakes/pseuds/JessBakesCakes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Josh and Donna pretended to be a couple - and the one time they didn't have to pretend anymore.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Josh Lyman/Donna Moss</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>105</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>262</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi! I'm brand new to the fandom - I binged all of The West Wing in two weeks and fell deeply and madly in love with Josh and Donna. I haven't written fan fiction in ages, but these two pulled me back in. I hope I can do them justice! I'm sure a lot of my ideas have been done before, (I haven't read much Josh/Donna fic yet) but I hope to put an original spin on them. Tropes are like comfort food to me. This fic is canon-compliant and will stretch across the entire series (and post-series). Thanks for reading!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time was spontaneous. </p><p> </p><p>They’d only known each other a week. They’d been to four different states in that time, and they were still establishing their rhythm as boss-and-assistant. It was an hour into day one when she realized that she was developing a… thing… for Josh. He had really nice eyes. And he smelled good. And she liked his laugh. A lot. </p><p> </p><p>Maybe it was loneliness, a desire for a rebound after Donna’s most recent failed relationship. It was unnerving that he knew what was going on with her within the first three minutes of their working relationship, but at the same time, it was… comforting? No one else had ever taken the time to study her like that. To put the pieces together. To get to the core of who she was and what she needed almost instantly. And he’d done it knowing her less than half an hour.</p><p> </p><p>Donna tried to write it off as being tired, or being so starved for anything remotely resembling positive attention from a semi-attractive, semi-nice guy that she was willing to latch on to something like this. It felt like a middle school crush. But their second night on the road, she had… a dream.</p><p> </p><p>Josh, kissing her suddenly and with such intensity that it nearly knocked her over. Josh, with his hands all over her: linked with hers, then in her hair, under her shirt. Josh, in bed with her, moaning her name. </p><p> </p><p>She tried her best to ignore it, to pretend like things were fine like they were the day before. But she walked right into a table the first time she saw Josh that next morning, and she knew she’d have to work a little harder to keep up the charade. Thankfully he didn’t see this happen, or she surely would have been the recipient of some sarcastic comment. But from then on, she just… knew. Things were different. Probably not noticeably so, at least on his end, but on hers? Her whole world had changed. She’d never felt like this about someone before. Donna had moments of clarity, reminding herself that he was her boss and that this was entirely inappropriate, but she was mostly walking on air.</p><p> </p><p>On this particular morning, they’re finally back at the Manchester office and they have a full day ahead of them. He walks in just as she’s sitting in his chair, color coding his schedule using highlighters she surreptitiously pilfered from unoccupied and unlocked offices whose occupants surely wouldn’t miss them or even notice they were gone in the first place.</p><p> </p><p>“Donnatella Moss,” he says, leaning in the doorway of his office.</p><p> </p><p>She can feel her heart beating in her ears and she stands up with a start. She’d told him a lot in the past few days, but she most certainly hadn’t told him her full name. “What…”</p><p> </p><p>“Donnatella Moss,” Josh repeats, a self-satisfied grin on his face. The sleeves on his navy blue dress shirt are rolled up to the elbows, one sleeve rolled slightly higher than the other. His hands are shoved in his pockets, but he moves to fold his arms across his chest. </p><p> </p><p>She’d been mercilessly teased about her full name her entire life. She’d even considered getting it legally changed when she turned eighteen. But the sound of Josh saying her given name is something she could absolutely get used to.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t… how did you…” Donna’s eyes follow Josh’s hands as they move.</p><p> </p><p>“How’d you get a name like Donnatella Moss?”</p><p> </p><p>“My mom’s Italian, my dad is Irish,” she says. “I didn’t tell you my full name. I introduced myself to you as Donna. A few times, if I remember correctly. How…”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m working on a Presidential campaign, Donnatella, you don’t think I can dig up information, or at the very least find someone who can?”</p><p> </p><p>“That is... an excellent point,” Donna says, looking down at the highlighter in her hands.</p><p> </p><p>“Not to mention that I was the person who gave you that paperwork that you filled out yesterday which contained your full name, date of birth, social security number, and other sensitive information.”</p><p> </p><p>“Also an excellent point.” </p><p> </p><p>“What do I have going on this morning?”</p><p> </p><p>“First thing, you’ve got a meeting with two big potential donors who wanted to speak with you directly.”</p><p> </p><p>Josh raises his eyebrows. “With me? Why? What makes them want to see me?”</p><p> </p><p>Donna shrugs. “I don’t know. But they’ve got the big bucks, so I give the people what they want. They’re actually here now.” </p><p> </p><p>“When you say ‘big potential donors’, you do realize that there’s a limit to how much they can donate, right?” Josh asks. “What makes them more important than any of the other donors we get?”</p><p> </p><p>“I did read up on that, yes,” Donna says. “But these people have connections to other people with deep pockets, Josh. I wouldn’t have put them on your calendar if I didn’t believe you needed to throw your weight around to convince them and potentially open the door to more donations and eventually, votes.”</p><p> </p><p>“And again I ask, why me? Why not Leo, or someone in finance, or… literally anyone else?”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine,” Donna says. “I was wearing my badge this morning on the way into work and they stopped to talk to me. They asked how to get involved, and they were interested, but sort of noncommittal. I told them who I was, and they didn’t care so much, but when I told them that I could get them in with you, their entire tune changed.”</p><p> </p><p>“Really?” Josh stands a little taller when he learns this piece of information, puffing his chest just slightly. </p><p> </p><p>Donna has learned a lot about Josh over these past few days. She’s noticed that he does this when he’s right, or when someone compliments him. She wonders if anyone else has ever caught on to that before. She can even tell in his voice that he loves the attention. He likes talking about himself. Normally she’d find this irritating, but there’s something charming about Josh’s extremely healthy levels of self-confidence.</p><p> </p><p>She wants to make him feel like that, always, for eternity. </p><p> </p><p>“Turns out they read a piece about you in the paper this morning. They find you fascinating and they agreed to come in and speak with you directly.”</p><p> </p><p>“Who are they?”</p><p> </p><p>“Henry Anderson and his wife Gina Anderson. Turns out they’re from Wisconsin. They’re here on vacation.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why would anyone want to take a vacation from Wisconsin? Not like they’ll find much cheese in New Hampshire.”</p><p> </p><p>Donna ignores this attempt to bait her. The cheese jokes have gotten old over the last few days. “They’re very… midwestern. You may want to have me stick around to... I don’t know, soften your approach a little.”</p><p> </p><p>“My approach doesn’t need to be softened, Donnatella,” Josh insists. “This is an approach that has been perfected over my many years of service.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m just saying, at least let me walk with you up to the front and introduce you to them. And then I’ll sit in and take notes, look very busy, laugh at your jokes. If I see an opening, I’ll take it, but if not I’ll sit quietly and let you work your magic.”</p><p> </p><p>“Work my magic? Donna…”</p><p> </p><p>“Remember when I said you’d find me valuable?”</p><p> </p><p>Josh sighs. “Yes, I remember, though at this moment I find myself wishing I could forget.”</p><p> </p><p>“This is one of those instances where I truly do think you’ll find me valuable. You’re going to have to trust me. I promise I’ll make you look good.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine. What else do I have on the schedule?”</p><p> </p><p>“You have a meeting with finance at 9:00,” Donna continues, alternating glances between the clipboard in her hands and Josh as they walk out the door of his office toward the coffee maker. “Hopefully you can discuss the donation you just secured from the people who are waiting for you out front.”</p><p> </p><p>“And then?” He pours himself a cup of coffee.</p><p> </p><p>“You have a meeting with Leo at 9:15, then you and CJ discuss your ‘interview presence’ at 9:45.” Donna follows Josh as he heads toward the front of the campaign offices.</p><p> </p><p>“My ‘interview presence’?” he asks, stopping in his tracks and raising an eyebrow.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>“What the hell does that mean?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I think it’s…”</p><p> </p><p>“I know what it means. I’m asking what’s wrong with my interview presence.”</p><p> </p><p>“I…”</p><p> </p><p>“Never mind. Don’t... answer that.”</p><p> </p><p>Donna steps ahead of Josh. “Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, this is Josh Lyman, he’s the senior political director for Governor Bartlet’s campaign.”</p><p> </p><p>“Nice to meet you,” Josh says, extending his hand. “We don’t have a big fancy meeting area, but we can talk in my office if you want.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’d be great,” Mr. Anderson says.</p><p> </p><p>“Donna, would you…”</p><p> </p><p>Before he can finish his sentence, Donna has one chair in her hand and she’s reaching for another. “Already on it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Follow me,” Josh says, leading the way. The Andersons discuss Josh’s profile in the paper and Donna wishes she could see his face light up as they talk. </p><p> </p><p>Donna brings the two chairs into Josh’s office, seating them across from his desk and inviting the Andersons to sit down. Josh’s phone begins to ring and Donna slips behind him to mute the volume on it. She tucks herself in a corner beside Josh, folding a page over on a legal pad she found on the edge of his desk and readying herself to take notes.</p><p> </p><p>“You know,” Mrs. Anderson says, “if I would have known this was a family operation, I would have come on board a lot sooner.”</p><p> </p><p>“Family operation?” Josh asks, perplexed. </p><p> </p><p>“You and your wife make a great team,” she says, motioning to Donna. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, no, Donna and I aren’t…” Josh says.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I’m sorry,” Mrs. Anderson apologizes, immediately cutting Josh off. She folds her hands in her lap. “I think I misread --”</p><p> </p><p>“Not yet, anyway,” Donna interjects, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she can stop herself. “We’re waiting until after Election Day to start making wedding plans, but we’re newly engaged.”</p><p> </p><p>Mrs. Anderson smiles. “I knew it,” she says. “I know a couple madly in love when I see one. It’s like a sixth sense.”</p><p> </p><p>“We’re not...” Josh starts.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, yeah?” Donna asks, interrupting Josh.</p><p> </p><p>Mrs. Anderson nods. “It’s the little things. The way you anticipate his needs, the way you two banter. The way he looks at you alone speaks volumes.”</p><p> </p><p>Donna’s stomach flip flops. The way he looks at her? As far as she can tell, he doesn’t look at her any particular way. Yes, he does give her that adorable smirk that makes her want to punch him and kiss him all at the same time, but he’s given tons of other people that look in the short amount of time that she’s been his assistant. She made a mental note to pay more attention, but she doesn’t think there’s any particular <em>look</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“Can I see the ring?” Mrs. Anderson asks, grinning.</p><p> </p><p>Donna laughs and puts her right hand toward her left ring finger, moving both her hands toward her chest. “It’s getting resized,” she explains with an exaggerated pout for effect. “Josh used his grandmother’s ring, and he wanted to be sure I would like it before he went ahead and sized it for me. It’s just a simple diamond solitaire with a gold band, I’m not sure what’s not to like about that. It’s exactly what I would have picked for myself.”</p><p> </p><p>“How did you propose?” Mrs. Anderson asks, turning her attention to Josh. </p><p> </p><p>“Actually —” Josh tries to interject.</p><p> </p><p>“At this moment he wants to kill me,” Donna laughs, interrupting. “We like to keep it low key in the office. We don’t want anyone thinking the campaign isn’t our first priority. Most of our co-workers don’t even know we’re together.”</p><p> </p><p>“I would venture a guess that <em>all </em>of them don’t know,” Josh mutters, just loud enough to be heard. </p><p> </p><p>“Right,” Mrs. Anderson laughs. “I’m sorry, I got a little carried away. Your secret’s safe with us.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay,” Donna says. “I didn’t exactly stop you. I mentioned to Josh that we met earlier on my way into the office when you saw my badge. What is it about Governor Bartlet that makes you want to vote for him?”</p><p> </p><p>She sees Josh’s body language change when they shift the discussion to politics. Donna can’t help but wonder if she’s made him angry. He seems annoyed, but he seems annoyed at almost everything some days. </p><p> </p><p>The Andersons talk to Josh a little about what led them to Bartlet. Turns out they’re intrigued, but they’re not quite sold on voting for him. They talk to Josh about their family, and their jobs, and what their hesitations are in committing to vote for Governor Bartlet. Donna watches as Josh expertly assuages their concerns on some proposed policies. This is one of the first times Donna has ever seen him in action. It’s not like he turns into another person; she’s discovered even in their short time together that Josh Lyman is Josh Lyman, always. But there’s this part of him that seems to come alive when he talks strategy, drops names of political heavy hitters, corrects misunderstandings about what’s been covered by the media. </p><p> </p><p>Ten minutes, several proposed fundraising events, and two newly secured votes into the conversation, Mr. Anderson has pulled his checkbook out and Josh is ushering them toward Leo’s office after they say a quick ‘goodbye’ and ‘thank you’ to Donna. Donna is left grinning to herself as she checks the clock, then Josh’s schedule. She has to check them both a couple of times to make sure she processes what she’s seen because she’s so distracted.</p><p> </p><p>“What the hell was that?” Josh asks when he returns.</p><p> </p><p>“Josh,” Donna says. </p><p> </p><p>“You realize that was entirely inappropriate,” he answers. </p><p> </p><p>“I know what you’re thinking.”</p><p> </p><p>“I really don’t think you do,” Josh says. </p><p> </p><p>“Josh,” Donna interrupts. “I can <em>read </em>people, okay? I studied psychology for a while, remember?”</p><p> </p><p>“Put that drama class to good use, too,” Josh grumbles. </p><p> </p><p>“They live about an hour away from where I grew up. So I thought, how could I sway these people? Pretend like they’re my mom and dad. Or my aunt and uncle. Or whoever. So I just treated them like I’d treat my aunt and uncle.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do me a favor,” Josh says, sitting down in his chair.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes?”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t do it again.”  </p><p> </p><p>Donna sighs. “We got the donation, didn't we? And besides, we’ll probably never see those people again.”</p><p> </p><p>“Unless we win this election and they’re invited to every fundraising event from now until the end of our time in office,” he deadpans.</p><p> </p><p>“Oops.”</p><p> </p><p>“Josh,” Leo shouts on his way past the door before Josh can say another word. “Great work with the Andersons!”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you,” Josh replies, doing <em>that thing </em>again upon hearing the praise from Leo. His attitude changes almost instantly, before Donna’s eyes. </p><p> </p><p>Donna clears her throat, catching Josh’s attention. He looks up at her and flashes her a completely genuine smile before leaning back in his chair and putting his feet up on his desk. </p><p> </p><p>“See? That wasn’t so bad after all, was it?” Donna asks, realizing that she’s probably crossing a little bit of a line.</p><p> </p><p>“Nah,” he says, his smile softening as he looks her directly in the eye. She can almost see the wheels turning in his head as he catches himself staring at her for just a moment too long. He quickly busies himself with a post-it on the corner of his desk. </p><p><br/>Oh. <em> That’s the look</em>.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for the warm welcome into the fandom, friends! If anyone wants to hang I'm jessbakescakes on tumblr - I juuust revived my tumblr after ages of letting it lie dormant, so I have no idea what shenanigans I'll get into there. But feel free to come say hi or what have you. And thanks for reading!</p><p>This one takes place after Noel - my whole entire heart... that episode gives me chills every time.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The second time caught Donna off guard. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They’d been in the emergency room for nearly two hours waiting for someone to stitch up Josh’s hand. Between his intermittent declarations that his hand really wasn’t in need of stitches after all, and his pacing the perimeter of the emergency room lobby, she can tell that his already limited patience is wearing thin. After his fourth or fifth lap around the large waiting area, she gets up from her seat and starts collecting remnants of what are probably days-old newspapers for him to read. Donna gently places her hand on his right shoulder and he flinches.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Josh,” she says, softly and quietly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He turns to look at her, his expression almost vacant and hollow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She hates seeing him like this. It’s almost physically painful for her. She hooks her hand in his elbow and leads him toward her, encouraging him to come and sit down with her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He does as she asks without protest, taking the seat to her left in the corner of the room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Josh turns to look at her as she sits down. “Did you have plans tonight?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “No.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Donna.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t have plans, Josh,” she repeats. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What she wanted to say was </span>
  <em>
    <span>I did have plans, but I canceled them when I saw you start to spiral </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve been so worried about you </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>I love you so much that it physically hurts to see you struggle</span>
  </em>
  <span>. But she didn’t. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Josh watches as Donna scans the individual newspaper pages she’s collected and begins to fold them into oddly sized rectangles, stacking them on the table next to her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” he asks, the exhaustion and impatience evident in his voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Folding around the articles to make it easier for you to grab with one hand. I’m trying to keep them in a readable order. Here,” she says, handing him a piece about the Senate majority leader from a page of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>New York Times </span>
  </em>
  <span>dated December 20th. “I’ll trade you for another one when you’re done.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s actually pretty smart,” he says in a much softer tone than before, accepting the first folded page.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have good ideas occasionally,” Donna replies, putting a crease in another article and adding it to the pile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This seems to occupy him until a nurse finally calls his name, interrupting the process of folding and re-folding to read different articles on the same page. When they get Josh settled, Donna stands back, ensuring she’s not in anyone’s way. She’s only half-listening as the nurse confirms the information on the intake papers that Donna filled out for him; she catches herself staring at him as he tries not to be quippy or sarcastic in response to the questions he’s being asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everything in her wants to walk over to him, to press a kiss to his temple, and maybe rub his shoulder or his back in just the right way so that she can see the tension leave his body.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The doctor arrives almost as soon as the nurse is done reviewing Josh’s health history. The doctor introduces herself and begins to unwrap Josh’s hand. Josh turns his head away from his hand, meeting Donna’s gaze for just a moment before looking down at his shoes as the doctor explains the next steps. Donna feels a blush creeping up into her cheeks and swallows a lump in her throat, fighting the gnawing feeling of embarrassment in the pit of her stomach. He’d just caught her looking at him with what was probably an expression he could read like a book. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Since Rosslyn, she hasn’t been doing a very good job at hiding her feelings for him, and she’s almost positive he’s caught on. There are times she convinces herself that it’s all in her head, that no one else can see it or feel it like she can. But it doesn’t last long; she’ll realize that it’s been obvious to anyone who’s seen them together for more than thirty seconds, and try to cover her tracks. Then she’ll swing back to the other end of the spectrum, convince herself she’s overthinking it as usual, and settle into the quiet longing for little moments with him that she can replay in her head again and again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The doctor numbs Josh’s hand and he hisses in response, muttering a string of curse words under his breath. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mrs. Lyman, you can come over here and hold his free hand if you want to,” the nurse offers while the doctor assures Josh that he shouldn’t be feeling anything else for the remainder of the procedure.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her eyes widen as she searches for a way to politely correct the mistaken nurse. “Oh, no, I’m not --”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re not in anyone’s way, I promise,” the nurse insists, cutting Donna off and ushering her up to the table Josh is sitting on. “If he’s anything like my husband, he’s wanted to ask this whole time, but that would mean admitting that he needs stitches in the first place.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna does as she’s told, taking Josh’s left hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. Josh looks down at their intertwined hands, and then back up at her, giving her a weary, half-hearted smile. Donna’s mouth gets dry all of a sudden. Was this crossing a line? Surely not, she convinces herself, considering how tactile their relationship was at times. Should she have been more forceful in correcting the nurse? She wasn’t even sure Josh heard this exchange, but somehow she felt guilty for not saying anything.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He breaks eye contact and looks back down at his shoes as he gives forced, polite-but-short responses to the small talk that the doctor and nurse are initiating. She knows how much he hates small talk that isn’t a prelude to accomplishing anything related to his political agenda. That’s always surprised Donna, especially considering everyone who’s spent more than an hour in the Oval Office knows Josh’s SAT verbal score. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, how did you two meet?” the nurse asks, continuing the already painfully awkward small talk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She uh, hired herself as my assistant. Conned me into giving her a job. Said I would find her valuable,” Josh says. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think I’ve proven myself quite valuable to you,” Donna teases.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course you have. Not a question,” Josh answers softly. There's not a hint of teasing in his voice. "I couldn't do it without you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna doesn’t know how to process what she’s hearing. This sort of sincerity is incredibly off-brand for Josh. She’s not sure if this was sincerity from him going along with the Josh-and-Donna-as-a-married-couple charade, or if he just managed to nearly make her cry right there in the emergency room with a statement that has no pretense, no ulterior motive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Things move quickly and smoothly for the most part. Josh’s hand is stitched and wrapped and he’s offered some pain medication, which he accepts. The doctor exits the room and the nurse starts folding some papers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Take it easy on your hand for the next couple of days,” the nurse tells Josh before turning his attention to Donna. “I’ll send you home with some instructions, some dos and don’ts to make sure his hand heals properly. I’ve been around the block enough times to know who to hand the important stuff to so it doesn’t get lost.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna accepts the discharge paperwork and tucks it neatly in her purse as Josh uses his free hand to unroll his sleeve. She helps him put on his jacket and they exit the emergency room together, all without saying a word. The silence continues as they walk toward the parking garage and stand waiting for the elevator.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, thanks,” Josh finally says. “For… you know.” He holds up his bandaged hand. “And for... looking out for me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna brushes a hair out of her face. “Of course. Anytime.” The two maintain eye contact again, for just a little longer than necessary, until the elevator announces its arrival with a loud ding. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The car ride back to Josh’s place is another long stretch of silence. Josh leans his head back, closing his eyes as Donna drives. His uninjured hand rests on his knee, his index finger tapping in a rhythm that seems to indicate that he’s still pretty tightly wound. Donna resists the urge to reach over and grab it, to rub her thumb across the back of his hand, to kiss his knuckles and gently return his hand to its place.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna pulls onto Josh’s street and finds a parking spot a few doors down from his. She turns off the car and turns to face Josh. “I don’t think you should be home alone tonight. Do you?” She’s direct - she knows that he’s aware of how frayed his nerves are, and there’s no place for the usual song and dance tonight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Donna.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Joshua. Answer the question.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sighs, and she knows that he’s very aware of how right she is. “No, I probably shouldn’t.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s initially surprised at how quickly he agrees, but she’ll take what she can get. She turns off the car and walks around to the trunk, grabbing her small overnight bag. With as much as she was staying at Josh’s unexpectedly or on short notice for the past few months, it ended up being easier to have something ready just in case. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They make their way to Josh’s apartment and he flips on the lights. Not much has changed since the last time Donna spent the night, except for the fact that there’s dirty laundry and a few assorted dishes scattered across the living room. She takes off her shoes, hangs up her coat, and places her overnight bag on the couch before she starts to gather his clothes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Donna, you don’t have to do that,” Josh says. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Truthfully, she didn’t even realize she was doing it - it was more of a natural response to seeing an untidy room - but she didn’t mind doing it for him at all. She’d done it for him after Rosslyn, there’s no reason she couldn’t do it now. She was there in the same capacity as she was then, too - whatever that was. Caretaker? Something about that word felt... off. Too formal. Too distant. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Friend</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She was there as his friend. Not his assistant, not his employee. His friend. That was about the closest she'd get to the right word.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She walks down the hallway and puts the laundry away. On another day, she would point out the dichotomy of having some dirty clothes in the hamper and some in the living room, but for today, she decides it’s best to let it go. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You want something to drink?" Josh asks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shakes her head. "No, thanks. I'm fine.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Josh loosens his tie and moves like he's going to toss it on the couch, but Donna holds her hand out as she passes him and accepts the tie, finding a more appropriate spot for it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You should get some rest," she insists. "You've had a rough day. If you need me you can come and get me, I'll be right out here."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Okay," Josh says. "Feel free to shower, or change, or do whatever." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Thanks." She unzips her overnight bag and pulls out some toiletries and her pajamas. "I'm probably just going to change and brush my teeth, I'm exhausted." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Sure." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Do you need to use the..." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Nah. Go ahead." He was doing that thing again - the thing where he… not mumbles, but sort of crunches his words together, eliminating syllables he deems unnecessary. It’s cute.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You should really go first,” Donna insists. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Donna." Josh’s tone is firm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Okay," she relents, bringing everything into the bathroom and shutting the door behind her. She quickly finishes her nighttime routine, an abbreviated version of the one she used to have when she stayed with him after Rosslyn. She exits the bathroom to find him in gray sweatpants and a crimson Harvard t-shirt, eating the remainder of what looks like a cold piece of pizza he retrieved from the fridge.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That was fast,” he says, mouth full of pizza. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She nods. “Yeah. Trying to get out of your way so you can finish getting ready for bed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can I finish my pizza first?” He puts the last bite in his mouth and wipes his hand on his sweatpants as he chews.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She places the clothes that she just changed out of in her overnight bag and settles on the couch. “I’m just…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know.” His tone is more gentle, almost as though he’s caught himself being unnecessarily combative with her when she was just trying to help. She’s always appreciated his rare moments of self-awareness when he’s realized he’s crossed the line. Josh sits down next to Donna on the couch. “Stanley said something to me today. You know, the guy from ATVA.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He was asking me who was there with me. You know. At Rosslyn. And then… forget it. It’s stupid.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not stupid, Josh, you can tell me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He said… ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>who was with you?’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>like… I don’t know, like the subtext of it meant ‘who was looking out for you when it happened’. And that was weird because I feel like he was trying to get me to admit that I was… alone? It was weird. Toby found me and CJ… I remember her holding my hand at some point. Sam was there too. But I don’t remember if any of this is stuff I was told or stuff I remember on my own.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna doesn’t really know what to say. She gently squeezes his arm, just letting him talk through whatever it is that’s on his mind. She doesn’t wish she was there with him when it happened - in fact, she thanks God every day that she wasn’t so that she could help him through the aftermath - but the loneliness and isolation that comes with knowing he was, for all intents and purposes, by himself when all of this happened is palpable. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was scared, and alone, and confused, and hurt. Donna knows that her co-workers did the best they could in a terrifying moment, locating each other and ensuring each other’s safety. But knowing that he was alone before that, with such a critical injury... sometimes that feeling sits with her. And it's unsettling. And now he's struggling, barely hanging on at times, and he's right here, but she can't do anything to help.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know how I got to this point,” he continues. “I don’t even know what made me bring that up. Anyway. Stanley’s going to get me a number for a therapist, but I don’t know. I’d rather just see him. I don’t wanna have to… start over again with someone else. I hate the idea of that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure Stanley’s going to update whoever it is,” Donna reassures him. “I doubt they’d want to make you do all that work again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Think if I bother him enough I can get him to cave?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You're pretty persuasive, Josh. I wouldn't eliminate it as a possibility."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He smiles. "Anyway. I’m gonna… head to bed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be right here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Goodnight...</span>
  <em>
    <span> Mrs. Lyman</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” His tone is teasing, as though he’s playfully bringing up something embarrassing to hold it over her head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ugh, I was hoping you didn’t hear that,” Donna says, grabbing a blanket and pulling it over her legs. “I tried to correct her, I swear, I didn’t mean to —”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” Josh interrupts. “It was actually pretty entertaining watching you squirm a little.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna isn’t sure whether she should be offended or amused. Josh’s humor always left her feeling a little of both - she hated that she found it so endearing, yet so frustratingly arrogant. “It was entertaining to watch me </span>
  <em>
    <span>squirm</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was clearly a little embarrassing for you, what, being </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mrs. Josh Lyman</span>
  </em>
  <span> and all. So I just… you know. Decided to push your buttons a little. Besides, you started it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I still maintain that we got that donation because of my shrewd ability to read people,” Donna insists.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And I still maintain that you did it to make my life more difficult,” Josh teases.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I would never intentionally do anything to make your life more difficult, Josh,” Donna says without hesitation, surprising even herself with how earnest she sounded in that moment. “In fact, I think I’ve made it my mission to make it easier.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The declaration changes the casual tone of the conversation for just enough time to make it awkward. The tension hangs in the air and Josh seems unable to cope, suddenly busying himself by pretending to adjust the thermostat. “If you need any more blankets… you… know where they are, you’ve been here before.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you mean what you said?” she asks suddenly, knowing she should probably stop herself. “At the hospital.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“About what?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Me being valuable,” she clarifies. “Did you mean that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course I did,” he says, not missing a beat, his surprisingly open tone matching hers from just a few moments before. “G’night.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks to all of you for reading and reviewing so far! It's been so nice talking to all of you. What a welcoming fandom! This one takes place during Manchester, Parts I and II, in season 3.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>If she was being honest, the third time was to push </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> buttons a little. Well, not initially, but by the end, it was just an added bonus.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was also probably some incredibly bad timing, all things considered. They’d barely had time to think since President Bartlet disclosed his MS and announced his intention to run for President a second time. Josh had been beating himself up over this tobacco situation, too, which didn’t help matters. They were all overwhelmed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But now they have one last night in Manchester after President Bartlet’s official announcement of his re-election bid, and Donna is determined to spend this night relaxing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna changes out of the dress clothes she’s been in all day and into her pajamas. She’s gathering her work clothes together as she hears a knock on the door. “Hang on one second,” she calls, placing her gathered clothes in the chair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The knocking increases in speed and intensity, and Donna doesn’t have to wait to open the door to know who’s on the other side now. “I said one second, Josh,” she insists, throwing on a sweatshirt over her tank top before opening the door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Josh walks into the room, tossing his room key from one hand to the next a few times. He attempts a behind-the-back toss but misjudges the angle, watching as the key drops to the floor. “What are you doing?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m getting ready to go to bed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s 7:30,” Josh says, checking his watch. “How are the grandkids? Did you catch tonight’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wheel of Fortune</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s just been a long few weeks and this is the first moment we’ve had to breathe, Josh. It may be the only moment we have for the foreseeable future considering subpoenas aren’t too far out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about that. Especially not tonight. I’m hungry, do you want to go get something to eat?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I just changed,” Donna says. “And I’m not really all that hungry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s going to take you two seconds to change again,” Josh insists. “Come on. You know you’ll be hungry when we get there. I’ll even buy you your own food so you don’t have to eat mine.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re so bothered by the fact that I eat your food that you’re willing to buy me some,” Donna smiles. “This sounds like a better deal for me than it is for you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m willing to make that sacrifice,” he says, finally bending over to pick up his abandoned key.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine. Give me a minute to change.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Josh flops himself onto Donna’s bed, turning on the TV and changing the channel. He grabs her pillows and puts them all underneath his back and his head, adjusting them to mold to his neck and shoulders. He catches her looking at him and stops what he’s doing. “What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“By all means, make yourself at home,” Donna sighs, opening her suitcase to find something appropriately casual.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Josh answers. “I will.” He resumes the pillow adjusting process. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna rolls her eyes and walks into the bathroom. He does this a lot, the meandering over to her hotel room on a trip. She's not sure if it's because he's bored or he just likes her company, but she always tells herself it's the latter. She's done it to him a few times, too, but she at least fabricates a work-related reason to pull off the maneuver. She leaves the door cracked but mostly closed, making sure Josh can’t see in but ensuring he can still hear her. “Where are we going?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was thinking about that place we used to hang out early in the campaign. Sam and CJ and Toby said they’d join us in a little bit if we went.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, the place where I kicked your ass at darts?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You did not </span>
  <em>
    <span>kick my ass</span>
  </em>
  <span> at darts,” Josh scoffs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna zips up her jeans and opens the door before returning to the bathroom counter. “I absolutely did,” she insists. “There were several witnesses. If it would make you feel better we can have a rematch.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No darts tonight. If anything, we’re playing pool. I’m great at pool.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Better than you are at darts?” Donna asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not allowing you to trap me with an answer to that question.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’d imagine you are better at pool than you are at darts. Probably because you can actually see what you’re doing when you’re playing pool,” Donna says, checking her hair in the mirror before turning off the bathroom light. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can see just fine.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s no shame in wearing glasses, Josh, we've been over this.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need glasses! My eyes are fine.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sam wears glasses,” Donna points out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well. Sam’s a nerd.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re a lawyer who regularly brags about his SAT scores. If </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sam’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> a nerd, what does that make you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re supposed to be on my side here,” Josh says. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I <em>am</em> on your side. That's why I’m telling you this. I think glasses would make you look distinguished. And you’d probably have fewer headaches.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I'd also have fewer headaches if my assistant would stop insisting that I need glasses.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine. You can just continue to live in denial until you realize I’m right.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their destination is just down the street from their hotel, so they decide to walk. Donna’s glad Josh chose this place. The food is excellent, and the atmosphere is good, but what she loves most are the memories she and Josh made there during the campaign. Late nights decompressing after a tough day, closing down the place celebrating even the smallest victories, lunches with paperwork spread out over the table that probably lasted too long to be strictly professional.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They find a booth-table combo in the back and sit down. Donna sits to Josh’s left in the booth, leaving empty spots for Sam, Toby, and CJ when they decide to join. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Josh orders a plate of nachos to start. It’s not long before Donna stops trying to convince Josh (and herself) that she's not hungry and starts to look at the menu to find something to eat. Josh starts back on RU-486 between bites of nachos and Donna just listens. She doesn’t mind letting him get it off his chest for a little bit, but she’s carefully considering the benefits of a forced change of subject as he becomes more and more agitated. It's a tough decision - sometimes it's easier just to let him go until he's sick of hearing himself talk about it, but sometimes he spins his wheels with no sign of stopping until she steps in, redirecting him to another subject.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Josh Lyman!” a voice shouts from across the bar. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna doesn’t have to change the subject when a woman about Leo’s age with curly shoulder-length gray hair and glasses waves from across the bar. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, god,” Josh says. “You’re going to have to save me from this one. Three minutes tops.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who’s that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Libby Sweetwater. Worked for us during the campaign. Nice lady, just bad at her job. So bad they had to fire her. She’s so oblivious.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The name sounds familiar - Donna seems to remember some stories Josh has told her about a woman who booked a block of hotel rooms in the wrong city, among other disasters the campaign had to clean up early on. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Save you? What do you mean, save you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. Just…” Josh can’t finish his sentence before Libby approaches the table. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Josh, it’s so good to see you,” Libby says. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s good to see you, too. What brings you to New Hampshire?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My daughter goes to school in Vermont,” Libby says. “We came to visit for the weekend.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Libby, I don’t know if you remember Donna Moss, I think you may have just barely crossed paths during the campaign,” Josh says. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course I remember you, Donna, it’s great to see you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good to see you too,” Donna replies. She doesn’t remember Libby, but Libby seems to remember her. Donna’s memories of the early days in the campaign are almost exclusively Josh-centric, so this isn’t entirely surprising, but she does feel a little awkward knowing Libby recognizes her but Donna has no memory of Libby. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll get straight to the point, Josh,” Libby says, taking a seat at the table. “I really want to help the campaign. I think Leo would get over it if you decided to ask me back.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know nothing happens on the campaign without Leo’s approval,” Josh says. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I do. But I also know that I can really make a difference here,” Libby answers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Libby, look, I appreciate your enthusiasm for President Bartlet’s campaign,” Josh starts. “I just don’t know that we have a spot for you on the travel team. There’s plenty of other things you can do for us, we would love to have your support...”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m a travel agent, Josh, it’s what I do for a living. It was an easy mistake to make and I think Leo was a little too harsh about it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We were in Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, and New York the next two days. Why would we fly out to Portland, Oregon for a night just to go back to the east coast? The Portland on the itinerary was very clearly Portland, Maine.” Josh’s tone is somewhere between incredulous and amused. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Schedules change last minute,” Libby says. “It was a tough job.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Josh sighs and folds his hands on the table. “And I can appreciate that, but I wonder if…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna isn’t listening. This conversation is surely going to head into the ‘save me’ territory Josh mentioned, so she needs a plan. Josh's reactions are surprisingly measured, and the relative calm he's answering her arguments with isn't going to last. She glances around the bar to see if any of their friends have arrived. No familiar faces. The only other idea she has is reaching for her phone and trying to stealthily speed dial Josh’s phone under the table. That's certainly not going to work for many reasons, including the fact that her phone is buried somewhere in her purse, so she needs a new plan, and she needs one fast. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then it hits her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She sits on it for just a moment, wondering if it’s the right way to solve this problem. It’s probably not the wisest plan, but seeing as how she has no other ideas, she decides to go for it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look, Libby. I know we’re all passionate about the President. And there’s no one in the world who loves to talk about his job when he’s not working more than Josh Lyman. But, tonight’s our night off, and we’d like to enjoy it together.” She gently places her hand on Josh’s forearm, rubbing her thumb back and forth. “Is it possible that we could pick this up some other time?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, my goodness,” Libby says. “Of course.” Her tone turns conspiratorial, and she raises an eyebrow. “I… can’t believe… that’s so exciting! When did this happen? I mean, when did it happen officially?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Depends on who you ask,” Josh answers, staring directly at his arm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, we were all starting to call you Sam and Diane,” Libby says. “But then we realized that it was awfully confusing considering we had Sam Seaborn on the team.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t I take your number down, or if you have a business card I can take that? I can give it to our volunteer coordinator who can find an appropriate spot to put you in or hand it off to someone else who can set something up,” Donna suggests. She leans down to get her purse and pulls out a small notebook and a pen, handing them both to Libby. “If you want someone other than Leo to make that call, that’s your best bet.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>While Libby writes, Donna moves her hand to Josh’s back, lightly dragging her fingernails up, down, and around in no particular pattern. He shivers just slightly under her touch. Donna smiles, enjoying the fact that this has so obviously affected him. Nothing she’s doing is forced  - it doesn’t feel unnatural. She probably wouldn’t initiate this in the West Wing, but there’s a certain comfort she has with the amount of physical closeness they have at this moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Libby hands the notebook back to Donna. “I also gave you my email address, just in case.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Perfect,” Donna says. “I’ll make sure it goes to the right place.” She accepts the notebook with her left hand, leaving her right to rest on Josh’s shoulder. She gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Libby says. “I’ll leave you two alone now, I just couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try to get on board for a second go around. It was good to see you again, both of you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You too, Libby,” Josh says. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna watches as Libby leaves the bar, finally removing her hand to reach for Josh’s nachos. “Plate,” she says simply, gesturing toward the small plates that accompanied the arrival of the nachos. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Josh hands her a plate. “Someday you’re going to pretend I’m your boyfriend in front of the wrong person and CJ is going to have a huge mess to clean up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I never said you were my boyfriend.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was heavily implied.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wow, Josh, you’re awfully quick to put a label on things. Why can’t we just have fun for a little while and see where it goes?” Donna teases, taking a chip and scooping some of the toppings onto it using her fork. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Donna.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You told me to save you,” Donna protests. “I couldn’t invent a work emergency when Toby and Sam and CJ could have walked in the bar at any time. If I made up an excuse that ended up forcing us to leave to keep up the charade, we would have to go before our food even got here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I seem to recall that you weren’t even hungry until we sat down and you saw my nachos.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> seem to recall you enjoying watching me </span>
  <em>
    <span>squirm </span>
  </em>
  <span>last time this happened, so don’t pretend you’re an innocent victim here,” Donna retorts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, look,” Josh begins, putting his elbows on the table and leaning forward, putting his face in his hands. “You got me, and I got you, and it’s been fun, but we’re even now.” He’s talking through his hands, without making eye contact with her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t think this was a competition,” Donna laughs. “It’s not like I was holding it over your head waiting to drop it on you to get a leg up. No one’s keeping score. Or, at least no one was until you just said we were even.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Josh sits up and looks at her, as though something she said sparked an idea. She knows that look. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There you are!” Sam says, his tone energetic and cheerful. “We hoped you’d save us a seat. Wasn’t this the spot we used to sit in back during the campaign? I think that seat right there is the seat where CJ…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Toby’s on his way,” CJ interrupts, grabbing the chair across from Josh and sitting down. “Charlie’s probably going to stop by, too. Think we could squeeze one more chair in here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam takes a seat. “We probably could, but if not Josh and Donna can scoot closer and Charlie or Toby can sit on that side.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>CJ picks up the notebook next to Donna and reads the name and number on the open page. “Libby Sweetwater? What the hell does she want?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Josh finally breaks eye contact with Donna. “A job.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I hope she isn’t holding her breath on that one.” CJ reaches for the nachos. “Remember the time where she told everyone we were leaving at 8 PM instead of 8 AM and we had to change our entire schedule?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charlie and Toby arrive as the conversation continues. Josh moves in the booth toward Donna, allowing Charlie to slide in with them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once they’re settled it takes Donna a few minutes to realize Josh’s knee is still touching hers. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for all the kind words on this story! It's been great getting to know some of you on tumblr - I've loved chatting with all of you and sharing headcanons and prompts. Feel free to say hi over there (same name there) if you wanna. </p><p>This fic has two more chapters - I've got the last one written already, but the 5th chapter requires me to re-watch an episode I haven't reached in my re-watching sequence. Because my self-imposed rule is to complete my re-watch in order, it may take me a couple of weeks to get to said episode so I can complete said chapter. I'm a school counselor and I have a week off of school in February, so I can safely say this fic will be finished then, at the latest. I'm hoping for it to be done sooner, but I can't guarantee it. I promise I'm not abandoning it if it takes me a bit to update.</p><p>Okay. Here's this chapter! This one's from Inauguration Part II: Over There. Naturally. I have a note at the end of this one for context!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Donna walked right into it the fourth time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She knows herself well enough to know how raw she always is after a breakup. But a breakup plus the quote, plus disappointing her boss and her co-workers and probably the President of the United States has made this an incredibly fraught few days. And it was all made more complicated by Josh being… Josh, in his most irritatingly sweet iteration.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okay, so maybe the complicated part was getting less complicated in some ways. She’s not thinking straight anymore. Frankly, she’s over the moon, and it’s a little surprising how vulnerable she’s allowing herself to be. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It felt like it was straight out of a movie, or an episode of a TV show with an adorable will-they-won’t-they couple. It would have been called something corny like </span>
  <em>
    <span>Inaugural Balls and Snowballs</span>
  </em>
  <span> and it would have been one of Donna’s favorites if she wasn’t in the middle of living it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They arrive at the first ball, Donna trailing behind Josh, who is in search of some champagne. Thankfully it doesn’t take long to find. Her nervous energy gets the best of her and she downs her first glass of champagne rather quickly as Josh works the room. She usually hates it when he does this - most people don’t acknowledge her presence and the ones who do always seem to be condescending or creepy. It surprises her to hear someone calling her name from a few feet to her right.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Donna,” the voice says. “Just the woman I wanted to see.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna turns around. “Congresswoman Tenney,” she says. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi, Josh,” the Congresswoman says, turning to acknowledge him as well. “It’s good to see you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Congresswoman,” he says, reaching for another glass of champagne for him, and another for Donna. “It’s good to see you too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I won’t take up too much of your time. I just wanted to come by and tell you that your recipe for the chess bars was perfect,” Congresswoman Tenney says. “They were pretty easy to make, too. The kids loved them and I didn’t have to do a whole lot of work, so it was a win-win.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, good, I’m so glad,” Donna answers. “They’re my favorites. I make them sometimes for special occasions.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, thanks again. I know where to come next time I’m in a jam with the other classroom moms. Have a good evening,” she says. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the congresswoman turns around, Donna grabs the glass from Josh’s hand and places it on a nearby table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I was drinking that,” Josh insists, picking the glass up again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re soon going to reach the point of no return,” Donna insists. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look who’s talking,” Josh says, motioning to Donna’s glass of champagne.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, one, you offered this to me, and two, I’m not the one who lives with the harsh and unfeeling realities of a delicate system.” Josh begins to protest, but Donna shoots him a glare. “You know if you have that next glass of champagne I’m going to have to come to your apartment tomorrow morning and drag you out of bed myself.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A chance I’m willing to take,” Josh says, downing the champagne. “But I think we’re both cut off at this point. Come on, dance with me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna takes Josh’s hand as he pulls her onto the dance floor. They’ve danced together what has got to be dozens of times before, but somehow this feels different. She’s not sure if it’s the champagne or the emotional rollercoaster she’s on, but something’s changed. There’s new energy between them, something Donna can’t quite put her finger on, a certain electricity between them that she’s never felt before. They’re dancing just a bit closer together than usual. Josh’s hand is just slightly lower on her back. It’s taking just a little longer to break eye contact.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, you ready to do this for four more years?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna takes a deep breath. Four more years feels like an eternity. That’s four more years of late nights and early mornings, of bantering as they walk down the halls of the West Wing. Four more years of hearing him shout her name from his office, despite her repeated pleadings to just call or page her (even though she really doesn’t mind it all that much). Four more years of being <em>just his assistant</em>. Her heart breaks a little at the prospect of it, but between the champagne buzz and the lingering sting of the end of a relationship, she can’t help but search for the subtext.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Reading between the lines, it feels like he’s asking her if she’s ready for four more years of </span>
  <em>
    <span>this. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Four more years of dancing around this chemistry. Four more years of finding ways to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>I love you</span>
  </em>
  <span> without saying those exact words in that exact order, lest they cross a line. Four more years of just-this-side-of-platonic touches, of Josh losing his mind when she goes on a date, of her living in anticipation of their next interaction. Four more years of tying Josh’s bow tie, trying not to pull him in for a kiss. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was born ready,” she answers. “What about you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Me, too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They settle into a rhythm, and it’s at this point that Donna realizes Josh is a great dancer. The champagne seems to have weakened the strength of the filter in her brain that catches the thoughts before they leave her mouth because she’s the first to break their silence. “Where did you learn to dance?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Like this. Where did you learn?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was a plus one to many a cotillion in my day,” he says, grinning. “The ladies loved me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She can tell he’s exaggerating, but she doesn’t call him on it. “Funny, with all the cotillions you’ve been to, you never learned to tie a bow tie.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Josh laughs. “I rented the tuxes, Donna, did you think I just had one hanging in my closet in high school in case of formal wear emergencies?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Donna says. “To hear you tell it, you went to so many that you may as well have invested in one.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just the one with the sleeves ripped off. You know, like Wild Thing from </span>
  <em>
    <span>Major League</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna can’t contain her giggles at the mental image. This seems to upset Josh, which makes her laugh even harder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean? I could pull that off,” Josh insists. “I could be Wild Thing. I’m amazed at the abject cruelty you’re displaying right now when I have been so kind to you tonight,” Josh says, feigning offense. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charlie approaches them and lets them know the President is looking for them, and Donna suddenly feels nauseous. She’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>drunk, </span>
  </em>
  <span>drunk, just a little buzzed. But after her earlier transgression with the article, this still doesn’t bode well for her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I won’t tell the President you’re drunk if you call me Wild Thing,” Josh offers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not drunk,” Donna insists, careful to keep her voice down as much as she can. “I’ve only had two drinks. I’m not you, Josh.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whatever you say,” Josh teases, holding out his arm for her to take.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s not a soul in the room who’s focused on how many drinks Donna’s had, thankfully, as there are more pressing matters to attend to. The President declares this night a work night, so Josh and Donna head back to their desks. Josh unties his tie and takes off his jacket, getting to work right away. Donna makes a few phone calls and gathers some information for Josh to look over, and he doesn’t waste any time diving right in. She grabs two bottles of water from the fridge and places one on his desk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Josh says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You need anything else?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m okay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna sits in the chair across from Josh, turning the pages in a binder to try to find some relevant material. They work together for a few hours or so - it’s mostly silence punctuated with the occasional groan or absentminded narration from Josh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You okay?” he finally asks, tapping a stack of papers together and placing them in a folder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Donna answers without looking up from her work. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re kinda quiet.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just have some stuff on my mind.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You miss Commander Wonderful and his thirteen buttons?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t know how to respond. Of course, there is a part of her that’s heartbroken, but she’s realizing how complicated this is. Over the last few hours, Josh’s words have echoed over and over in her head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Your career wasn’t important? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Josh was right. She let go of the anger she initially felt at the situation in general in favor of anger at Jack, and anger at herself for allowing someone to take advantage of her like that. Of course, she knows she made a calculated decision, but when she looks back at the situation she also realizes how she’s been here before. Taking the fall for someone else’s bad decisions, making excuses for their behavior, covering for them in the hopes that it would earn her esteem in their eyes. And she feels so small.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She knows it will all hit her tomorrow, waking up alone in her apartment with nothing to show for it but a hangover and a broken heart. She’ll give herself space to fully feel the sadness of losing someone, even if in the long run it wasn’t going to work out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s... complicated,” Donna says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Josh takes a long sip of water. “Yeah.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna places a few more phone calls before things slow down. Josh stretches in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck before opening another folder. She can tell he’s losing steam, because she is, too. “I think you’ve done all you can do for one night,” she says. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Josh relents, closing the folder and grabbing his bag. He offers to share a cab with Donna, and she isn’t about to turn him down. It’s another quiet stretch in the back of the cab, this time from her own seat next to him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They’re only on the road a few minutes before she turns to Josh. “You know something?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hm?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I still don’t understand why you were throwing snowballs at my window,” Donna laughs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, to be honest, I knew you weren’t going to come downstairs unless I made a big, dramatic gesture. I thought about it for a second, grabbed a handful of snow, made a snowball, and tossed it at your window,” Josh says, grinning. “And the rest of the guys followed my lead.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wow,” Donna smiles. “Smooth.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It worked, didn’t it? I like to think it was a pretty classy move.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna laughs. “Yes, because shouting in the middle of the street and pelting my window with ice is the epitome of class.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know who taught me that, don’t you? How to go for a big, dramatic gesture?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure you subscribe to a trashy magazine of some sort with tips and tricks for pick-up artists like you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Josh turns to face her. “Seriously, Donna. You did. You taught me that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I did?” She's honestly a little surprised.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You tried to help me with Amy that one time. See, I listen to you more than you think I do.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna takes a deep breath. Her chest feels tight, her fingers are tingly, and it’s hard to see straight. Josh has been uncharacteristically open about his affection tonight. Donna knows he cares, but he’s usually better at tempering it with snarky comments or jokes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The cab arrives at her apartment and Donna turns to Josh. “Thank you. For… the cab, for coming to get me, for… trusting me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re welcome,” Josh says. “I’m following you up. I want my coat back.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can give it to you tomorrow,” Donna answers, opening the door to the taxi and stepping out onto the now-slushy sidewalk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be right back,” Josh tells the taxi driver. “Two minutes.” He shuts the door and follows Donna into the building. “You can’t be serious.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You have another coat, Josh,” Donna says, starting up the stairs. “I know you do. Just wear that one to work tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Josh follows closely behind her. “I know I do, too, but I want that coat you’re wearing so that I can put it on and wear it home.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you shouldn’t have given it to me if you didn’t want me to keep it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe <em>you</em> shouldn’t have come downstairs without a coat in the first place,” Josh insists.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When they arrive at Donna’s door, she has the impulse to invite him inside. On any other night, there’s the safety net of distance, of work, or of some other innocent, friendly activity. But the vibe is just too different tonight, and no matter what the pretense is, it would feel flimsy. There’s just as good a chance things could end up awkward and embarrassing for them both as there is that things would go exactly like she’s always imagined, and those aren’t odds she’s willing to take. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They hear movement behind them as someone walks by. Donna can see out of the corner of her eye that it’s her neighbor, Mrs. Daniels. Donna closes her eyes for a moment, hoping that they won’t be noticed, but those hopes are dashed when Mrs. Daniels greets her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good evening, Donna. Or, is it good morning at this point?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi, Mrs. Daniels,” Donna says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I heard you had some company earlier,” Mrs. Daniels starts. “Company who threw snowballs at your window and woke half the neighborhood instead of calling you on the telephone to alert you of their arrival.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That one’s on me,” Josh interjects. “We had eight inaugural balls to attend, and I wasn’t going to stop throwing snowballs at her window until she came downstairs so I could dance with her at every last one of ‘em.” Josh flashes Donna a dimpled smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna raises an eyebrow as the realization of where this is going washes over her. She can’t exactly stop it, so she says a silent prayer that he goes easy on her. She doesn’t know if she can handle it tonight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend, Donna.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna doesn’t have a chance to respond before Josh interjects. “After the snowball throwing and the dancing, I gotta say that I feel pretty good about my chances.” Josh reaches for her hand, threading his fingers in hers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna can feel herself blushing. She looks down at their now connected hands, following them with her eyes as Josh presses a gentle kiss on the back of her hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrs. Daniels doesn’t react. “Just keep it down, could you, please?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, ma’am, we will. Have a good night,” Josh says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They just stare at each other for a few moments as Mrs. Daniels makes her way down the hall. On any other night, Donna could have jumped in with ‘this is my boss, Josh Lyman’ or ‘Josh and I work together’ or literally anything else to prevent this from happening. But her defenses were down, and he knew it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Josh,” Donna whispers, dropping Josh’s hand as soon as Mrs. Daniels shuts the door to her apartment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mrs. Daniels. Lives across the hall from you. Likes to blame you and your roommate for noise complaints that aren’t your fault. But you won’t throw your next-door neighbors, the people who are </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> noisy, under the bus because you’re afraid they’ll get evicted.” Josh jerks his head to the left when he refers to the neighbors. “Mrs. Daniels made a comment to you when she first moved in about you being single, somehow equated your worth to your status in relation to a guy, and it upset you. Probably still does, on some subconscious level, but at the time it bothered you enough to talk about it for a week.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think it was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>week</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Donna says, picking an inconsequential part of his explanation to focus on so that she doesn’t have to acknowledge what just happened.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Josh ignores her. “Considering the events of the past few days, it seems that Betty Busybody was poised to get under your skin, so I tried to help you out a little.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You <em>helped me out</em> a little, or you wanted to even the score of this previously nonexistent competition that you made a competition in Manchester?” Donna asks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, since you brought it up,” Josh says, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span> we’re even. You pulled it on me in Manchester the first time during the first campaign. And then during the second campaign. Remind me never to go to Manchester with you again.” He’s grinning when he says this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna slips his jacket off of her shoulders and hands it to him. “Here.” She turns to open her apartment door and steps inside. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks.” He puts the jacket on, then turns to walk away before stopping in his tracks. “Hey, earlier, when you were talking to Congresswoman Tenney?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know you baked.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have much time anymore,” Donna says. “But I bake every now and then.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You should bake me something sometime.” He raises an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t bake for just anyone, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wild Thing</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Josh raises his eyebrows. “Good thing I’m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>just anyone</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Donnatella,” he says, his arms outstretched, bracing himself on either side of Donna’s doorway as he leans forward slightly. “I’m your </span>
  <em>
    <span>boyfriend</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Get out,” Donna laughs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, okay, fine. Goodnight.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna watches him walk down the hallway before she shuts the door. She takes a quick glance around the living room, turning on the light and glancing around for both of her roommate’s cats to make sure they didn’t escape into the hallway during the exchange. Donna notices that her roommate’s keys aren’t hanging on the wall, so she gets an idea. She softly hums to herself as she makes her way to the kitchen, pulling out a bag of confectioners sugar and placing it on the counter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe if there are any chess bars left over, she'll bring some to share with Josh.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Okay, if you've never had chess bars, you need to try them. They're amazing. That's my first note.</p><p>The second note: There are some deleted scenes of Josh/Donna that I LOVE and honestly think it's devastating we didn't get to see officially. But I consider most of them canon, in my head. (I know some people don't. I do!) Here's the link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NMoz4Vx6VAw&amp;ab_channel=Yuma </p><p>The one where Donna tries to help Josh figure out how to fix things with Amy is the one I referenced in this fic. (But how wonderful is that first scene, though? It's a CRIME that it was cut.)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I finally managed to trudge through the episodes I needed to get through to get to this moment, folks. This one's Gaza-related. Maybe someday I'll write an actual Gaza fic - there's so much to explore there and we saw so little of it. I tried to give them just a little time to address what happened while still keeping this canon-compliant, so I hope you like it. </p><p>Anyway! One more chapter of this one - feels a little bittersweet, being that it's my very first fic in the fandom. I have it mostly written, so it should be up early next week, probably? Thanks to all of you who are saying hi on Tumblr and leaving love here - you're all fantastic and it's been so great getting to know you!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The fifth time was her best attempt to put all her cards on the table.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna wakes to the sunrise peeking through the windows in her hospital room, but she feels like she barely slept. She’s mostly resigned herself to the fact that this is how she’s going to be sleeping for the foreseeable future, but she’s getting more and more frustrated waking up feeling exhausted like this. She tries to move down in the bed just a little but feels a twinge in her leg as she shifts. She grabs the morphine clicker and leans her head back against the pillow, scanning the room to find that Josh is the only one who’s there with her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She relaxes a little when she doesn’t see Colin or her mom. Colin’s handsome and charming, but with him she has to be… </span>
  <em>
    <span>on.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Peppy, sweet, entertaining. At least, she feels like she has to. Her mom won’t stop finding things to do to try to take care of her, but Donna knows it’s so her mom doesn’t fall apart in front of her. So Donna feels compelled to keep both their spirits up, or they’ll both break down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With Josh, she doesn’t have to pretend.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She leans forward to try to scratch her leg, but she can’t quite reach the spot she needs to reach. Donna sighs and turns her attention to the TV. The volume is down, so she tries to make sense of the bits and pieces of text she catches scrolling across the bottom of the screen. It only takes a few minutes before she realizes that it’s too mentally taxing in her current state to continue to pay attention. So she closes her eyes in an attempt to doze off again.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Someone comes in and leaves what she assumes is breakfast for her just as she’s about to finally fall asleep. She doesn’t open her eyes, but she stirs a little. When she doesn’t drift off after a few more minutes, she gives up, trying to reach for the magazine her mom brought her the night before. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She catches another glimpse of Josh in the chair - he’s asleep in what can’t be a comfortable position, with his arm twisted under his head and neck. She’s been swimming in and out of consciousness for… well, she’s not sure exactly how long it’s been since all of this happened, but it’s definitely been days, based on how terrible Josh looks. Donna’s still not sure how he ended up here with her. She’s also not sure how he convinced Leo and the President to spare him for as long as he’s been by her side during what has to be an incredibly stressful time at the White House.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s a part of her that feels guilty for all of this - for pushing him to give her more opportunities, to do something different. And she knows he’s absolutely carrying the guilt of sending her there in the first place. She remembers the talk she had with CJ before she left. It really got under her skin and she can’t put a finger on why. Well. She can if she gives herself the space to think about it. But everything hurts, and everything’s a little fuzzy around the edges right now, so that’s going to have to wait.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Donna can’t help but think about Josh as she watches him sleeping. She can imagine the twisty feeling in his gut he must have had when he found out about what happened. She thinks about him on the plane to come to see her, beside himself wondering if she was okay. About the fact that he flew here with only the clothes on his back and a few work-related items shoved in his backpack. About the look in his eyes in the operating room when he tried to convince her that everything was going to be okay when they both knew that this was how he lost his dad.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>About how he knows exactly how she felt after Rosslyn. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The thought makes her feel sick. Those feelings of loneliness, despair, heartbreak, anger… she wouldn’t wish them on her worst enemy. And Josh knew them intimately because of her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, Donna feels overwhelmed. She takes a deep breath, attempting to pull herself together before the floodgates open, but instead her breath hitches in her chest. There’s a distinct possibility that she’s blubbering now, but she isn’t sure until Josh stirs from his chair and moves over to her bedside.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” he says, grabbing some tissues from the bedside table and handing them to her. “What’s wrong? Are you in pain?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She can’t stop the tears long enough to answer him. She’s cried in front of him before, sure, but this just feels different. Josh looks confused - sort of frozen in place, unsure how to handle this development. He finally takes Donna’s hand, careful not to interfere with the tubes and wires of all the machines she’s hooked to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She feels like she should have seen this coming; she knows she can get emotional when she’s medicated (or inebriated, for that matter). When she had her tonsils removed in the third grade, she broke down because the popsicle she asked for was too purple. In high school when she had her wisdom teeth out, she cried over a squirrel she ran over on the way to school a few mornings prior. There was also the time when she got drunk and called Ginger to cry about the ending of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Titanic</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s going to be okay,” he says, squeezing her hand. “Do you need me to get the doctor?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna shakes her head and squeezes his hand in return, trying to reassure him that she’s physically okay. She manages to calm herself down enough to look him in the eye. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Was it a... dream?” he asks. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, I just… you know I get those sometimes, too, so.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She knows he does, even still. Donna can usually tell when he’s had an off night due to a nightmare as opposed to his standard lack of sleep. They tend to pick up at the end of summer for a bit, then sporadically around Christmastime, depending on what they’ve got going on at work.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The thing is, he’s not wrong. Not entirely, at least. Donna had a nightmare when her mom was with her, but her mom had fallen asleep in the chair. She’d just gotten in after her flight and Donna didn’t want to wake her. She probably wouldn’t have tried to wake Josh, either, but Josh likely would have known anyway. He’s been borderline hovering, so long as Colin wasn't around, and if she didn’t love him so much she would have kicked him out ages ago.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She would have left ages ago, too. The White House, that is. If she didn’t love him so much. CJ said so, and Donna knows it, too.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, that thought certainly isn’t going to help her calm down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look, I know you’re under the influence of some pretty heavy-duty stuff right now, but it looks like I’m not the only one with a delicate system,” Josh teases, clearly trying to lean on familiar banter without the slightest idea of how to help her. </span>
  <span>She gives him a watery smile, so this spurs him on. </span>
  <span>“I haven’t even begun to tease you about the time we went to the Hawk and Dove and you were so drunk, you almost cried because you stole Sam’s seat.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He seemed really mad about it,” Donna laughs, sniffling as Josh hands her some more tissues.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He smiles back at her, a bigger smile than she’s seen from him in months. For a moment, it feels like things could go back to what they used to have: late-night talks in hotel rooms, early morning banter over coffee in the West Wing, little touches, and probably-not-so-subtle flirting. But she knows they’re too far gone now. Things have changed too much. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s going to have to be perfectly clear with him about what she needs. If she can manage it when she’s not medicated, that is. They can't have this conversation in Germany.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With some distraction from Josh, Donna manages to stop crying after a few minutes. Josh looks at the spot next to Donna on the bed, eyeing it like he wants to sit down when a nurse arrives at the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ms. Moss?” the nurse says. “I'm Melissa. I’m here to take a look at you this morning.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna make a phone call. I’ll be right back,” Josh says, walking toward the hallway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna squints, trying to remember all of the people who have helped her during her stay. She can’t remember Melissa. She’ll have to ask Josh to add her name to the running list of 'thank you' cards she needs to write when she returns home. “Have we met? I don’t remember you, but I’ve been kind of out of it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, we haven’t,” Melissa says. “I’m just getting back from vacation, so I’m meeting most of my patients for the first time today.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Melissa reaches for Donna’s wrist to take her pulse, and Donna watches Josh at the door. He looks back at her for a moment, flashes her a dimpled smile, and turns toward the hallway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can tell you love him,” Melissa says, motioning toward Josh on his cell phone at the door to her room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna’s not entirely sure she hears Melissa correctly - but she’s not entirely sure of anything that’s happened these past few minutes since the morphine has finally kicked in. “I’m sorry?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Melissa smiles and holds up Donna’s wrist. “When he looks at you, I have to count a little faster. Now whether that’s a result of irritation or adoration is an entirely different story.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A little of both at the moment,” Donna says before she can stop herself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Melissa laughs. “How are you feeling this morning?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My leg hurts, and I can’t really get comfortable. The morphine is finally helping, though. Other than that, I’m a little better than yesterday.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The doctors are going to run some more tests today to see where we stand. If things look okay, your notes say that we can start to make a plan to get you home. I don’t know what that plan will look like, but I’d imagine it would be encouraging to have a plan in the first place.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Josh hangs up the phone and returns to Donna’s bedside. "How's everything looking?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Moss, I was just telling your wife that if the tests they run today go smoothly, we can start making plans for her to head home.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Josh smiles. “Hey, that’s great news.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Looks like someone brought you some breakfast. We’ll be back in a couple of hours to check on you. Just buzz us if you need anything,” Melissa says before exiting the room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So I took your name, huh?” Josh asks. “Very modern.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hm?” Donna attempts to readjust her position in the bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The nurse,” Josh explains, adjusting a pillow behind her back. “She called me Mr. Moss. Said you were my wife.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna looks up at him and gives him a half-hearted smile. “Shut up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Must have been pretty confusing seeing Heathcliff here with you yesterday,” Josh says, grinning and lifting his chin. “You know, considering we’re married and all.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She said she just got back from vacation. She didn’t see him,” Donna says, pulling at her blanket. “What’s for breakfast?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Josh looks at the tray. “Some fruit, some oatmeal, a piece of toast… I think those are eggs? Maybe? Hard to tell.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna smiles. “I’ll try some oatmeal.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hands her the container, watching her as she swirls the oatmeal around with her spoon. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re staring,” she says after a few minutes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m making sure you eat, Donnatella,” Josh insists, finally taking the spot on the bed that he was looking at earlier. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The use of her full name makes her smile. It’s been a little while. “My mom’s been rubbing off on you,” she laughs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I like your mom,” Josh says. “She’s funny. She was mocking one of the doctors yesterday behind his back. She says she could tell he was a Republican.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna looks down at the cup of oatmeal in her hand, doing her best to will her arm to move to her mouth to eat some. Every task suddenly feels difficult to complete, and it’s tempting to just put her head back on the pillow and close her eyes again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who was on the phone?” Donna asks, just trying to force herself to focus. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sam. He sends his love.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna takes a bite of oatmeal. “It’s late for him, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not quite midnight. He left me a message and told me to call when I could, no matter what time it was. I hadn’t made it through the network of calls to let everyone know how your second surgery went yet. I think he was worried.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna smiles. “Sam’s a good one. Thank him for me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Josh nods. “I will.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna manages to swallow a few bites of her breakfast before lazily reaching for her tray to place the rest of it on. Josh helps her tidy up and moves the trash out of her line of sight so she can relax. “Did you get something to eat?” she asks. “You can have some of my breakfast if you want. Although I don’t know if it will be very good. Makes me miss the Mess.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll have something when your mom gets here,” Josh says. “She called a little while ago and said she’d be in around 9.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What time is it now?” she asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“8:45.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>"Which means she'll be here any minute."</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She watches as Josh adjusts her blanket, then shoves his hands in his pockets. He paces the room a few times before reaching for the remote control and handing it to her. “I haven’t checked to see if the Germans have soaps, but I’m sure you’ll find something to watch.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This isn’t your fault, you know,” she says suddenly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Josh runs his hand through his hair. “Look, Donna…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not. And I know why you came here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Donna —”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Josh, just listen. I know why you came here. It’s the same reason I stayed with you after Rosslyn. It’s the same reason I asked for you,” Donna says, wiping her eyes. “Before my surgery. I didn’t ask for Colin. I asked for you. I wanted to see <em>you</em>. I need you to remember that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna can’t read the look on his face when she says this. She realizes that she probably shouldn’t have started this conversation with as emotionally vulnerable as they both are, but there’s no turning back now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And for the record, you didn’t correct her when she called you Mr. Moss,” Donna adds.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She watches the expression on his face turn from confusion to understanding as her mom walks into the room.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well, this is it. It feels weird to post this and be done with it! I've been working on this story since December and I feel sort of like I'm sending my first born to college. Haha. Anyway. I'm grateful for all of your support and enthusiasm for this fic - I hope to keep working on my other WIP of course, and get started on another multi-chapter fic soon. I can't decide which one that will be, since I have several being plotted out, but expect something else fun soon! Thank you for reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Are you almost ready?” Josh asks. “I don’t want to miss the mini quiches while they’re hot. These aren’t the gross ones with spinach. They’re the ones with the little pieces of bacon.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna smiles. “You weren’t worried about mini quiches at all about thirty minutes ago,” she says, putting in her earrings and looking in the mirror back at Josh, who is standing behind her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can be convinced to stop worrying about them again now if you’re offering.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Josh,” Donna says, laughing. “You’re not ready, either.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“All I have left is this tie. So as a matter of fact, I am ready.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know how to tie a bow tie. I’ve taught you how to tie a bow tie. And yet you insist that I do it for you, every time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know. You just do it better than I do,” he says, sliding up behind her and putting his chin on her shoulder as he wraps his arms around her waist. “You look phenomenal.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna blushes. “You’re making it hard for me to finish getting ready and look even more phenomenal, seeing as how I can’t move now,” she says, putting her hands on top of his. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I just like being close to you, Donnatella.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna sighs and turns around, leaning against the bathroom counter and beginning to tie Josh’s tie. “Not like you need an excuse to be close to me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Josh places his hands gently on her hips while she works. “Not anymore, I don’t.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t really need one to begin with, but whatever you say.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They’d always been pretty </span>
  <em>
    <span>touchy-feely</span>
  </em>
  <span>, as Sam used to put it. Josh even called him on it once. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sam, you’re a speechwriter, you can’t come up with something more eloquent than that?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Josh has amped it up a little since they made it official, but Donna has no room to talk. She also likes initiating physical contact without the boundaries that being boss-and-assistant brought to the table. Not like they really paid attention to those boundaries much anyway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They found their rhythm as a couple by Valentine’s Day, and everything has fallen into place from there. They both have bosses who insist they leave the building on time more often than not, which helps. They still have their share of nitpicky and mostly pointless arguments when they’re overwhelmed and feeling backed into a corner, but even those are less frequent than this time a month ago. It’s still new, but it feels… right.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sometimes it still surprises Donna just how at ease Josh is with all of it. Every now and then he throws out a worry, however irrational it may be, cloaked in a question posed to gauge Donna’s opinion on something. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Do you ever wonder if we’re moving too fast? Do you ever think about what our lives will be like this time next year? Have you ever thought about what would happen if we lost the next election? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her answers are always honest (</span>
  <em>
    <span>Not at all</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>all the time</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>a little</span>
  </em>
  <span>) but the reassurance that they’ll get through it together helps them both feel better. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Josh interrupts her train of thought by moving his hands to her backside, trying to pull her away from the counter toward him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t start,” she warns. “We’ll never get out of here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I could live with that. Not like we really need to be at this party in the first place. Who’s it even for, anyway? The ambassador to Norway?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Finland,” Donna corrects him, brushing the shoulders of his tuxedo jacket. “And mini quiches, remember?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Think they could just bring me some and we could stay here? Best of both worlds.” He whispers the last part, inching his face toward hers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna gives him a gentle peck on the lips. “I doubt it. Let’s go.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Almost immediately after their arrival at the party, Josh and the President are pulled into the Situation Room, leaving Donna to mingle with Helen Santos and everyone who wants to use Helen as a proxy to the President.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna has learned that Helen doesn’t have much of a poker face. When someone’s getting under her skin, it’s evident in her expression. Donna loves this about her as a friend, but as the First Lady’s Chief of Staff, it means that she has to help Helen strategically plan her party interactions. Conversations with the more grating personalities usually end up toward the beginning of the night to leave room for friendly faces toward the end of the evening once they’re all a little more relaxed (and sometimes a little more drunk).</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a particularly frustrating chat, Helen grabs Donna’s hand. “Come on. We’re going to find the good hors d'oeuvres, load them up on a tray, and get some air.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna’s just as ready as Helen is for an escape from the small talk. They separate, gather food, and meet outside on the balcony. Helen has already started eating when Donna arrives. “God these crab cakes are good,” Helen says, mouth full. “I promise, I’ll share.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Donna says. “I brought some jalapeño poppers, some meatballs, and spinach puffs.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not the mini quiches, but they’ll do.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think Josh probably pocketed about six of those on his way out,” Donna laughs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s a few moments of silence while the two eat. Helen takes a sip of wine. “Are you okay?” she asks. “You’re quiet tonight.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just thinking about what that awful woman from interior was trying to pull,” Donna says. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s an insufferable know-it-all,” Helen laughs. “I think Matt would agree.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure he would, I just don’t know if he would have said it while she was in earshot.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Helen looks at Donna, terrified. “Oh, no, I said that in my ‘out loud’ voice, not my ‘in my head’ voice.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, she didn’t hear a thing,” Donna reassures her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank god,” Helen says, the relief evident in her expression.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They both laugh. Donna and Helen’s friendship has grown stronger over the last few months in particular, now that they both feel more at home in their roles in the administration. When Helen asked Donna a question about Josh one evening early in February, it occurred to Donna that she had never told Helen the full version of her and Josh’s story. So they ordered food and sat in Donna’s office while Donna shared their story in its entirety. In return, Helen shared bits and pieces of how she and the President ended up where they are, and as a result, it was like they both had fresh, new perspectives on the other, allowing their friendship to take root. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I should have brought some water,” Donna says. “The wine is good, but these jalapeño poppers have a little kick to them. You want some water?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you cutting me off?” Helen teases. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna laughs. “Just for now. You promised you’d talk to Harriet from treasury. Then you can get as drunk as you want. She always makes me want to get drunk, too. One time Josh had to meet with her, and I’d been dealing with her and her office for weeks. He kept a little mini bottle of liquor in his drawer and we shared it when the meeting was over.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t,” Helen laughs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We didn’t get drunk or anything, but still. Probably best that we save any and all drinking until after we’re finished with her,” Donna says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No kidding. I can go get us some water,” Helen offers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s fine. I’ll be in and out. If you walk back inside you’ll get ambushed,” Donna insists. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna scans the room and realizes that this party doesn’t have a fancy bar. For a moment, she considers walking into the kitchen and asking them to get her a pitcher of water and some ice, but she knows better than to walk into a kitchen in the middle of preparations for dinner. The small goblets of melted ice water at the table would only get them so far, and she wasn’t about to make more than one trip for this. So she gets an idea and makes her way to the West Wing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thankfully the majority of people who would be occupying the space are still at the party, which tells Donna that whatever’s happening in the situation room is either minor enough that it doesn’t warrant a late night, or is nearly solved. Donna finds the spare key to Josh’s office under Margaret’s chair, then opens his door and turns on the light. She resists the urge to tidy up his office as she tries to find what she’s looking for.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Bartlets gave Josh and Donna several items from their personal antique collection as gifts to celebrate their new positions. One of these gifts was a glass pitcher the former President claimed was from the 1840s. Donna knows Josh keeps it somewhere in this office. Their home was already overrun with thoughtful gifts from various well-meaning people that they couldn’t quite use but couldn't quite throw away or donate, so they each picked a few items to bring to work in an attempt to keep the peace for everyone while also maintaining their own sanity. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She finds the pitcher sitting on a shelf in the back of the room, next to a photo of her and Josh on inauguration day. She makes a mental note to tell him she saw it the next time it comes up. </span>
  <span>Donna inspects the pitcher - she’s surprised to see that it doesn’t look covered in dust and she doesn’t need to stop to clean it. She locks Josh’s office and makes her way down to the Mess, filling the pitcher with water and grabbing two glasses to fill with ice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna slips out of the Mess, carrying the pitcher in one hand and two glasses in the other, trying to go unnoticed. She makes it halfway down the hall before she’s stopped. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Donna.” A young woman in her early twenties wearing a pink blouse and gray slacks greets her, running to catch up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi, Christina,” she says. “You’re here late.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They just called a full lid. I’m headed out now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna nods. “Ah, okay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is kind of a weird question, but. Did I see you come out of Josh Lyman’s office a couple of minutes ago?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Indeed you did.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah, you two really are close, then.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s incredibly amusing to Donna that there’s a subsection of the press, a younger and greener subsection, that’s always surprised to find out she and Josh are together. It’s such an odd shift from this time 10 years ago, returning to New Hampshire with a bandaged ankle and trying not to make it completely obvious how head over heels she was for him. Or even 5 years ago, still being hopelessly in love with him but fearing the fallout if they were to ever act on it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you call <em>being in love</em> close, then, yeah, I guess we’re close,” Josh says, walking toward them. He places his hand on Donna’s shoulder and gives her a kiss on the cheek. “Are we on the record?” Josh teases. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” Christina laughs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll gladly go on record and tell you how much I love this woman,” Josh continues. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I may take you up on that sometime,” Christina says. “It’s just nice to have the extra context. People make references to things that happened behind the scenes in the Bartlet administration and I’m still trying to piece it all together. Anyway. They talk about you two a lot.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ll hear a lot of things,” Josh says. “About half of them are outright false. Legends, myths, fables. Half of them have a kernel of truth, and more than half of that half is probably exaggerated for effect.” He pauses for a moment before he asks, “What do they say about us?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Josh,” Donna laughs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What? I’m just curious. Aren’t you curious?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not really, no.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I am. What do they say about us?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna nudges Josh. “Come on, we’re leaving. Have a good night, Christina.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They say their goodbyes and head back toward the party. Donna hands Josh the pitcher of water and adjusts the drinking glasses so that one is in each hand now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” he says. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi. Everything okay?” Donna asks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It is now,” he answers. He turns to push the door open with his back, careful not to spill the pitcher as he moves. “Where are we bringing this?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Out on the balcony. Helen and I are out there. We stole a bunch of food and brought it outside to eat for ourselves.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good. I’m starving,” Josh says. “They’re out of the mini quiches. Told you we should have just stayed home.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When they arrive back at the balcony, they find that the President has joined the First Lady outside. Josh fills the two glasses Donna’s holding with water before placing the pitcher on the table next to the trays of food. Donna hands Helen one of the glasses. “If I would have known you’d be finished, I would have gotten you both a glass, too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matt shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. I think we both expected to be in there a little longer than we were.” He takes Helen’s hand in his. “I also heard you broke into Josh’s office to get that pitcher.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna laughs. “Word travels fast, apparently.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Christina caught you breaking into my office?” Josh asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She caught me leaving the Mess, but apparently she also saw me near your office. Speaking of Christina, you were cute back there,” Donna laughs. “Offering to go on the record to talk about how much you love me and all.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s just nice to be able to be up front about the fact that we’re together,” he shrugs. “It doesn’t get old.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, now,” Matt teases. “I’m starting to feel like our number one spot in the Power Couples ranking in </span>
  <em>
    <span>Harper’s Bazaar</span>
  </em>
  <span> is in danger.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Helen laughs. “Oh, no, how will we survive? We’re an old married couple, and these two are still in the honeymoon phase of their relationship. I’m okay with sharing the spotlight for a little while. Let them enjoy the fact that people like that they’re together.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We had enough people ask us about it during the Bartlet administration that I’m always surprised when people don’t know,” Donna says, taking a sip of water. “At least we could just categorically deny that we were together.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, other than when we used to fake it,” Josh laughs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fake it?” Helen asks, taking a sip of water. “This is a story I have to hear.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Donna sighs. “Sometimes, before we got together, we used to pretend we were a couple. It was out of convenience, mostly, to get us out of various awkward situations.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But somewhere along the line, it ended up like a game of relationship chicken. We kept egging each other on without realizing we were doing it,” Josh adds.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> definitely realized you were doing it,” Donna insists. “You practically made it a competition.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fair,” Josh agrees. “I’ll cop to that. It wasn’t a competition we could really win, though.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hard to care about winning when you’re just looking for an excuse to play the game,” Donna admits. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, now I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> feeling threatened,” Helen teases.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Josh puts his arm around Donna’s waist and pulls her closer. She leans her head on his shoulder and listens to the ongoing banter. She thinks back to the times where they slipped into ‘fake couple’ mode and realizes that each time they did it, there was a little bit of truth to it. Like they could use it as an excuse to be honest with each other without… actually being honest with each other. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She has to admit, she enjoyed it when they used to pretend. But the real thing is way more fun.</span>
</p>
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